


And It's You, and It's May

by orphan_account



Series: The Bones of You [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Leather Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sam starts to unpack at Stanford, he finds Dean's old leather belt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It's You, and It's May

It has been twelve days since the final blow up between Sam and his father. Three days since he has moved into his dorm. Six hours since Dean has last called.

  
"I don't know where we are heading next, but I'll let you know when I do. I know you're gonna be busy with school so I'll try not to bother you for a couple days. Take care Sammy."

  
The past three days had been hectic to say the least. Between moving in, trying to find a job, going through all the freshman orientations, and starting classes, Sam has been too busy to really unpack,

 _This isn't going to last. It can't last. Nothing this normal ever stays._ but today Sam is stuck in his room with nothing to do. He hasn't made any friends yet

_Don't bother, you'll be gone in a week anyway._

  
and his roommate has traveled back home because his nephew is due be born tomorrow. So, now Sam is an empty room with his full duffel bag just taunting him  
  
 _Look at me. I am your life, just a string of motel rooms because freaks like you don't deserve homes._  
  
So, he decides, it's time to actually settle in. He sets about putting away his things. Jeans and tshirts go in the top drawer, holy water and silver go under his pillow, socks and underwear in the bottom drawer.  
  
It's when he is almost at the bottom that he finds it. Dean's leather belt, and doesn't that bring up some memories. The swoosh the belt being practically ripped from Dean's belt loops, the smell of sweat, Dean all stretched out on the bed, the weight of his brother's cock on his tongue as Sam sucked him down.  
  
 _And shit, this is why you are a freak. No amount of demons or bad parenting can make you this fucked up._  
  
Sam remembers the first night he had sex. Dean was scared because God knows he would never want to hurt his brother  
  
"But Dean, I want it. I want you."  
  
They had kissed and jacked each other off before, and there was no telling how many times Sam had gotten off by rubbing one off on Dean's stomach.

  
"But this is different Sammy."

"I know. I still want it."

"I'm not going to hurt you Sammy."

"I know you won't."  
  
Sam slowly stands up, belt in hand, and walks over to his bed. He thumbs the belt, the texture so familiar. It felt like the days in the backseat, trying to read while Dad and Dean blasted their music. Sam didn't miss that, but God did he miss his brother calling him a nerd. Miss him always trying to eat some greaseball on a bun because "You need to eat some real food sometimes." Sam mind wanders back to the memory, back to that motel in Maine.  
  
Sam pushed Dean's bare chest and his brother complied, laying back onto the bed

"Lift your hands."

"Why?"

"To prove you're not making me do anything I don't want." Dean did as he was told. Always so obedient, needing instruction, wanting to be led. Sam hopped off the bed and started searching for where they had left their clothes in the dark. He came back with Dean's belt. Sam straddled Dean's waist, wrapped it around his brother's wrists, and tied them to the headboard.  
"Is this okay?"

"Yeah Sammy. Yeah, th-this is fine." Sam will never forget the way Dean's voice had shook, or how he could feel his brother's cock harden instantly against his thigh.  
  
Sam groans at the memory. He slowly unzips his pant's. Justin won't be back for another two days, he can allow himself to indulge in a memory or two. Sam lays back, takes off his shirt, and starts to palm himself through his boxers.  
  
"Sammy, be careful, you can really hurt yourself if you don't use enough lu-"

"I got it." Sam pulled out a tube labeled "Love Slick Glide" 

"Well, you've got to, um, stre-" A sudden kiss 

"Dean, stop, I know what I'm supposed to do. I did lots of research," Sam winked. He could practically see the images swirling in front of Dean's eye. Dean gulped. A soft click sounded as Sam opened the tube, pouring the liquid onto his fingers. 

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh, I thought of you the whole time." Sam turned to where Dean could get a good view of his hole and then started slowly circling it with a slick finger. "Thought about this, thought about lots of things, Dean. I even practiced so I would be ready when I finally got you to say yes." He pushed a finger in, knuckle by knuckle. Sammy sighed and moved it in slowly in and out. "Thought about your soft lips and huge cock while I fingered myself. Thought about you biting my thigh while you finger-fucked me, got me ready to take your cock." He slipped in another finger. "Thought about they way you'd call me Baby Boy, how damn good it'd feel to get you inside of me..." Sam gasped as he scissored his fingers

Dean groaned, "Fuck Sammy" and bucked his hips. "You filthy boy." Sam added a third finger. "Make sure you use extra lube. It ain't as easy as the pornos make it look."  
"Like this?" Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean as he pulled his fingers out slowly, until just the tips remained. He pulled his fingers apart, opened the lube and squirted it straight into his gaping hole.  
  
In his dorm, Sam slowly tugs at his cock. He swipes his thumb over his slit just like Dean taught him. He still has the belt in his hand, and he is rubbing it just like he did three years ago.  
  
"Oh God yes Sammy."  
Sam turned around. He straddled Deans hips, leaned forward for a kiss. It was a slow, indulgent kiss. Tongues tangled lazily. Sam reached a hand up to cup Dean's face and let the other wander to his leather bindings, thumbing idly at them.

"I love you Dean."

"I love you too Sammy."

Sam grabbed Dean's cock, steadied himself, and slowly lowered himself. He closed his eyes

_Dear Lord this is a lot harder than porn._

and had to pause a couple of times to catch his breath. When he was fully seated, Sam gave a breathless laugh as he looked up to his brother. Dean looked like he had seen God, and Sam knew he had seen divinity in that moment. It was the love in his brother's eyes, so pure and limitless.

_This is why this can't be wrong. This is love._

He leaned down and kissed Dean again. "You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm good" and they had started to rock their hips. The rhythm was off, but it was nice.

_I guess being the top is better, but that's okay. It's still ni-_

"Holyfuck!"

"There it is," and Dean had shot a smug look at Sam, not that his brother had noticed. He was too busy thrusting his hips, trying to get as much of that feeling as possible.

"Oh God Dean, oh fuck."

"That's it. That's a boy. Wish you could see yourself, look so good bouncing on my dick. You feel so good, Baby Boy."

"Oh God! I love you Dean. I love you I love you," Sam moaned. Never had Dean's name sounded more like a prayer.

"Love you too Baby Boy. Want to see you cum. Want you to jack yourself off, jizz on my chest. I want to see your face. I want to feel you cum, Sammy."  
He had rushed to obey. Hand flying over his cock.  
  
"Dean, oh God Dean, I'm, I'm gonna cum." Sam painted his brother's chest with his seed as he felt Dean cumming inside of him.  
  
Now Sam is panting, vaguely remembering the words spoken after they had caught their breath.

"You okay?"

"I'm more than okay. What about you? How are your wrists?"

He remebers the soft touches and gentle kisses. Love confessed in whispers and reverent tones.

"You were amazing Baby Boy. Love you Sammy."  
  
Moments pass as Sam catches his breath. He looks at his hand, covered in spunk. He thinks that if Dean were here, he would flick it in his face. It always guaranteed a round two. Instead, he waits until his legs will not wobble, and walks to the sink to clean up. The extra seven minutes he spends rinsing the soap is not so he can compose himself, and there is certainly no tears he wipes away afterwards.


End file.
